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A new First Minister’s Questions procedure in the Scottish Parliament: How will it work?

By Ruxandra Serban

Following the May 2026 Scottish Parliament election, the new Presiding Officer, Kenneth Gibson, announced a set of changes to First Minister’s Questions (FMQs). The changes to the Standing Orders were adopted on 26 May 2026 and implemented at the start of June. According to Gibson, the changes are meant to provide the Scottish Parliament with the means to carry out stronger scrutiny of government, and a greater role for backbench MSPs. Looking at international experience shows that the reforms have the potential to change how FMQs works, but although some of the changes are very innovative, others might not lead to the desired effect. The creation of a separate backbench session is a significant institutional innovation, but removing advance notice of questions may do less than proposers hope to make exchanges less scripted.

How did the previous First Minister’s Questions procedure work?

Under the previous system, which had been in place since 1999 with some recent changes related to timing and duration, First Minister’s Questions was a single weekly session, held every Thursday from noon, lasting up to 45 minutes. MSPs submitted questions in advance, and the Presiding Officer selected those that would be asked in the session, based on suitability, topicality, and maintaining a balance between political parties. The selected questions were published in the Business Bulletin ahead of each FMQs. By convention, the session began with questions from the leader of the largest opposition party, followed by leaders of other opposition parties. After the party leaders’ questions, other MSPs could also be called by the Presiding Officer to ask questions.

What are the changes? How do they compare to how other parliaments question the head of government?

The first important change is that FMQs has moved from one to two sessions a week, with different groups of MSPs questioning the First Minister in each: a 30-minute session on Tuesdays for backbenchers, and 30 minutes on Thursday for party leaders. A separate session for backbenchers is unique internationally in terms of how parliaments organise the questioning of heads of government. Research on how parliaments question prime ministers shows that plenary questioning procedures that include only a specific group of parliamentarians are very rare. These procedures are usually open to all parliamentarians, with an established running order in which leaders get to ask questions first, and backbenchers subsequently. An exception is the Irish Dáil, which has a separate procedure (Leaders’ Questions) for party leaders to ask questions to the head of government. But a separate session for backbenchers to question the head of government is not a model that has been tried in other parliaments. It has the potential to make questioning more open: the first session of Backbench FMQs took place on 2 June 2026, and included 18 questions from backbench MSPs. Questioning procedures are often criticised for being too focused on leaders and offering too little time for the issues that backbench parliamentarians want to discuss. Extending time for backbenchers is therefore a common reform initiative, for example in proposals to reform Question Period in Canada, and in Speaker John Bercow’s promise to call more backbenchers at Prime Minister’s Questions in the UK. Allowing backbenchers their own FMQs slot could create a session more focused on policy and local issues, and less on scoring political points. But this depends on how coordinated questions will be. In some legislatures, parties tightly coordinate members’ questions; in others, individual parliamentarians have greater autonomy. The key issue is whether backbench MSPs will have more freedom to ask the questions they want to ask, or if the session will be used as a way for each party to pursue their agreed questioning lines.

The Presiding Officer has also announced changes in how parties will be called to ask questions in what is now a more fragmented parliament following the May 2026 election. The main opposition party asking the first three questions at FMQs will alternate every week between Labour and Reform UK Scotland, which now have 17 seats each. This is a significant change, given in the past there was always one larger party acting as the main opposition. The Greens (15 seats) will also get three questions, and the Conservatives (12 seats) and Liberal Democrats (10 seats) will get to ask two each. Gibson has said he may occasionally allow smaller parties to go first. Many parliaments have an established conventional sequence for how parliamentarians ask questions, usually starting with key actors, such as the Leader of the Opposition and other party leaders. Question allocation is usually done based on the number of seats, and larger parties get more questions and usually ask the first questions in the session. This creates a predictable pattern of exchanges, so changing the order occasionally is an interesting procedural innovation. The first exchanges between leaders also often receive more media attention, making question order politically significant. In a parliament with no clear main opposition party, this change may lead to different exchanges at FMQs compared to the traditional sequence of the First Minister responding to the leader of the largest opposition party first.

A third major change is that questions will no longer be published ahead of the session, so the First Minister will not know the questions in advance for either of the two sessions. This has been described as a response to complaints from opposition MSPs that the First Minister was giving scripted answers. Whether the proposed change will have this effect is less clear. It is of course likely that the First Minister (currently John Swinney) will be less able to deliver prepared answers if he does not know the questions in advance. But other procedures for questioning prime ministers where questions are asked without notice, such as PMQs in the UK, Question Period in Canada, or Question Time in Australia, are frequently criticised for scripted answers. The issue is the wider political environment. The procedure through which the head of government appears in the legislature to answer questions is one of the most publicly visible parliamentary events, which political parties use to put their messages across in the media and on social media. Heads of government prepare extensively for these sessions and try to anticipate questions, and very often have prepared lines to take. They may seek to deliver these lines regardless of the question. There is also merit in knowing the topics in advance, as prime ministers can deliver more precise answers, as evidence from the Dáil sessions with the Irish prime minister shows. The Presiding Officer has acknowledged that if MSPs let him know the questions in advance privately, that will lead to ‘a selection of more impactful questions’. It remains therefore to be seen whether this development will lead to more spontaneous exchanges, even though comparative evidence suggests it may not. This is more likely in the backbench session compared to the party leaders’ session, but again depends on how much control parties exercise over the questions.

The proposed reforms are significant and include some institutional innovations. They also come following changes to the balance between parties in the Scottish Parliament, so they have the potential to change how First Minister’s Questions operates. Whether they strengthen scrutiny will depend on how parties, backbench MSPs, and the First Minister adapt to the new procedure in practice.

About the author

Serban is a Lecturer in Politics and Qualitative Research Methods in the School of Social Sciences at Birkbeck College, University of London. Before joining Birkbeck in January 2026, she held positions at UCL and LSE. Her research focuses on parliaments, particularly the procedures through which parliamentarians can hold governments to account.

 

 

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Ethnic Minority representation at Holyrood after the 2026 election

By Nasar Meer and Timothy Peace

This blog is based on an article first published in the Scottish Election Analysis Report.

The 2026 Scottish election has produced a more varied minority ethnic cohort than the one that preceded it. It includes new parties, new regions and new biographies. Yet the scale of representation still lags behind Scotland’s population profile and suggests progress without parity. 

Scotland is more diverse than at any earlier point in its devolved electoral history. Scotland’s 2022 Census recorded that 12.9% of the population identified with a minority ethnic group, including 7.1% from non-white minority ethnic backgrounds. By contrast, the Parliament elected in 2021 included just six minority ethnic MSPs across the session: Foysol Choudhury, Pam Gosal, Sandesh Gulhane, Anas Sarwar, Kaukab Stewart and Humza Yousaf. That amounted to just under 5% of the chamber.

The 2026 result has increased the number of publicly self-identified Black and minority ethnic MSPs from six to eight. This is a modest shift moving from around 4.7% of the Parliament to around 6.2%. It is therefore a real advance, but still below both the non-white minority ethnic census benchmark of 7.1% and the wider minority ethnic benchmark of 12.9%.

The composition of the cohort has changed more dramatically than the overall number. Of the six minority ethnic MSPs associated with the 2021-2026 Parliament, only Anas Sarwar remains in the 2026 cohort. Humza Yousaf and Foysol Choudhury did not stand; Pam Gosal, Sandesh Gulhane and Kaukab Stewart were not returned. This means the new minority ethnic presence at Holyrood is a substantially reconfigured cohort rather than a continuation of the previous one.

The 2026 cohort includes Michelle Campbell, Zen Ghani and Simita Kumar for the SNP; Anas Sarwar and Irshad Ahmed for Scottish Labour; Iris Duane and Q Manivannan for the Scottish Greens – who is also Holyrood’s first non-binary MSP; and Yi-Pei Chou Turvey for the Scottish Liberal Democrats. This party spread is one of the election’s most significant changes. In the previous Parliament, minority ethnic representation was concentrated in the SNP, Labour and Conservative groups. After 2026, it extends across to the Greens and Liberal Democrats and while the Conservatives and Reform UK have none, both parties fielded a number of ethnic minority candidates.

This wider distribution suggests that ethnic minority representation is becoming less confined to a small number of parties or political pathways. The Greens’ presence is especially striking. Iris Duane, elected for Glasgow, and Q Manivannan, elected for Edinburgh and Lothians East, broaden the cohort in relation to migration, gender identity and political generation. Yi-Pei Chou Turvey’s election for the Liberal Democrats in North East Scotland adds a further regional and party dimension.

The geography has also shifted although Glasgow remains central. Zen Ghani won Glasgow Cathcart and Pollok for the SNP, Anas Sarwar was returned on the Glasgow list for Labour, and Iris Duane was elected on the Glasgow list for the Greens. But Edinburgh and the Lothians now play a much larger role, with Simita Kumar, Irshad Ahmed and Q Manivannan all elected there. The outcome therefore moves beyond an exclusively Glasgow-centred account of ethnic minority representation.

The case of Glasgow Pollok is symbolically important, as the abolition of this constituency, previously represented by Humza Yousaf, and the creation of successor constituencies Glasgow Cathcart and Pollok and Renfrewshire North and Cardonald were won by Zen Ghani and Michelle Campbell. Despite boundary changes and Yousaf’s departure, this part of Glasgow continues to return minority ethnic MSPs. The continuity is geographical rather than personal, but it is politically meaningful.

Conversely, the previous Parliament included minority ethnic MSPs with significant governing experience, most notably Humza Yousaf, who had served as First Minister, and Kaukab Stewart, who held ministerial office. After 2026 both have gone and leave the governing party without a minority ethnic MSP whose parliamentary service makes Cabinet office an obvious next step. The result is a thinner pipeline between descriptive representation and executive power. Importantly, minority ethnic candidates, especially women and visibly Muslim candidates, continue to report disproportionate harassment and intimidation. Humza Yousaf’s rise to the office of First Minister, in which political rhetoric cast minority politicians and communities as less fully Scottish, less legitimate, and more politically suspect, was a reminder that visibility can also intensify racist and Islamophobic abuse. Something openly brought into the Scottish Parliament with a newly elected Reform UK MSP who has called for the deportation of British Muslims and endorsed Tommy Robinson. 

There is also a difference in electoral route. Michelle Campbell, Zen Ghani and Simita Kumar entered through constituency victories, while Anas Sarwar, Irshad Ahmed, Iris Duane, Q Manivannan and Yi-Pei Chou Turvey entered through the regional list. This shows that minority ethnic representation is present across both elements of Scotland’s electoral system, although the regional list remains the more common route.

The broader lesson is that representation has widened, but the underlying gap remains. The question after 2026 is therefore less whether Holyrood has made progress. It has. The harder question is how that progress becomes durable, proportionate and ordinary rather than exceptional.

About the authors

Meer is a Professor of Social and Political Science in the School of Social & Political Sciences. He is Principal Investigator of Racial Equality since Devolution: Divergences, Outcomes and Frontiers (Nuffield Foundation, 2026-2028) author of The Social Life of Justice to be published this year.

Peace is a Senior Lecturer in Politics at the University of Glasgow. His research focuses on Comparative European Politics and he edited the book Muslims and Political Participation in Britain (Routledge 2015).

 

 

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What happens after a law is passed? Reflections from war-time Ukraine

By Anton Morgun and Franklin De Vrieze

Returning to the Wroxton Workshop always feels special. Under the leadership of Lord Philip Norton of Louth, the Workshop continues to offer something that is increasingly rare: a genuine exchange between academic research and parliamentary practice. The formal presentations matter, but so do the conversations over coffee, lunch and dinner, making the inter-disciplinary learning environment quite unique.

Measuring parliamentary success

This year, one idea surfaced repeatedly:

Parliamentary success should be measured less by the number of new laws adopted and more by a parliament’s ability to understand the impact of the laws already in force.

Against that backdrop, we presented our findings on post-legislative scrutiny (PLS) in the Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine, the Parliament of Ukraine. The research project led by Irina Hum of the VRU sought to answer two straightforward questions. First, what determines the effectiveness of PLS in Ukraine? Second, to what extent are the recommendations resulting from PLS actually implemented?

Presenting the work together, as a legal analyst from the Ukrainian Parliament and a practitioner who has worked alongside parliamentary colleagues around the globe, made for particularly rich discussions. Many participants recognised that law implementation is becoming the next frontier of parliamentary oversight.

PLS starts where the legislative process is often assumed to end. It asks whether legislation has achieved its objectives, whether implementation has been effective, what unintended consequences have emerged and whether public policy has improved.

Those questions are especially important in Ukraine, where Parliament has continued to strengthen oversight while simultaneously responding to Russia’s full-scale invasion, reinforcing democratic resilience and advancing EU accession.

PLS recommendations from Ukraine

Our research examined twelve PLS inquiries undertaken between 2021 and 2026. One of the central findings is that successful PLS should not be judged primarily by the number of legislative amendments that follow. Across the twelve Ukrainian inquiries, only around twenty per cent of recommendations proposed legislative amendments. Almost two thirds sought improvements in public policy, administrative practice or institutional implementation. In other words, the greatest value of PLS often lies not in amending the legislation but in improving how legislation works in practice.

Several inquiries illustrate this insight. The review of the Law on Youth Policy showed how narrowing the evaluation to specific provisions produced more practical and measurable recommendations than reviewing an entire framework law. The inquiry into the Law on the Natural Gas Market demonstrated how PLS can identify implementation bottlenecks across multiple public institutions rather than focusing only on legislative drafting. The review of the Law on Administrative Service Centres illustrated how implementation gaps can be addressed through administrative improvements instead of statutory amendments.

From public evidence to parliamentary findings

Evidence remains the foundation of effective PLS. During the inquiry into the labour legislation, the Committee on Social Policy and Protection of Veterans’ Rights received, processed and analysed more than 60,000 submissions from citizens.

That extraordinary consultation exercise demonstrated that parliamentary committees are increasingly capable of transforming large volumes of public evidence into meaningful parliamentary findings and practical recommendations.

Partnerships and cooperation

The Ukrainian experience also confirms that strong PLS depends on partnerships. Parliamentary committees benefit enormously from cooperation with supreme audit institutions, statistical offices, ombuds institutions, universities, law reform bodies and civil society organisations. These partnerships strengthen both the evidence base and the legitimacy of parliamentary findings.

Equally important are the people inside parliament. Across many jurisdictions, parliamentary staff provide the continuity, analytical expertise and institutional memory that make PLS possible. At the same time, the Speaker, Deputy Speakers and Committee Chairs create the political space needed to place legislative impact firmly on the parliamentary agenda.

The Ukrainian Parliament has developed increasingly sophisticated methods for conducting PLS. Yet there remains scope to strengthen structured cooperation between Parliament and Government throughout the PLS cycle. Earlier dialogue when selecting legislation for review could reduce duplication, improve evidence gathering and increase ownership of subsequent recommendations. Transparency is equally important. Publicly accessible PLS reports allow researchers, civil society organisations and citizens to scrutinise findings, monitor implementation and contribute to future inquiries. Openness strengthens accountability and institutional learning alike.

From global conversations to democratic resilience

For WFD, these findings also reflect a much longer journey. Over two decades of partnership with the Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine, WFD has had the privilege of supporting parliamentary strengthening across successive phases of institutional reform. The development of PLS has been one chapter in that broader partnership, characterised by mutual learning rather than one-way technical assistance.

The same spirit has shaped the Global Community of Practice on Post-Legislative Scrutiny. As more parliaments institutionalise PLS, practitioners increasingly learn directly from one another. Experiences from Ukraine resonate with lessons emerging from Kenya, Zambia, Scotland, Nepal and many other legislatures. PLS is no longer an isolated innovation; it is becoming part of a global parliamentary conversation about legislative quality and democratic accountability.

Reflecting on the discussions at Wroxton afterwards, one thought stayed with us. Democratic resilience is not built only through constitutional design or the passage of new legislation.

Democratic resilience is also built through the quieter discipline of returning to existing laws, listening to citizens, measuring results honestly and having the confidence to improve what does not yet work.

An effective tool, not a luxury

Ultimately, that is the promise of post-legislative scrutiny.

Ukraine demonstrates that post-legislative scrutiny is not a luxury reserved for stable democracies with abundant resources. It is an effective oversight tool that can strengthen legislative quality under the most demanding circumstances.

That, perhaps more than anything else, was our shared takeaway from Wroxton.

About the authors

Anton Morgun is Chief Legal Advisor at Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine

Franklin de Vrieze is Head of Practice Accountability at Westminster Foundation for Democracy

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Disability representation in the Scottish Parliament: Gains, gaps, and promises

By Stefanie Reher

This blog is based on an article first published in the Scottish Election Analysis Report.

Many of the 1.3 million disabled people in Scotland and their families will be wondering what the next years will bring for the representation of their interests. Two former MSPs who were among the most outspoken advocates of the disabled community in the previous Parliament, including as Conveners of the Cross-Party Group on Disability and contributions to the Assisted Dying Bill debate, Jeremy Balfour and Pam Duncan-Glancy, will not return to Parliament. However, two other disabled MSPs were re-elected: Emma Roddick, who has been an active campaigner for mental health and who shared her experience of not receiving necessary adjustments as Minister for Equalities, and Gillian Mackay, the Scottish Greens co-leader who first entered politics through an Inclusion Scotland internship in Holyrood supporting disabled people’s access to politics.

Advocating for disability rights and interests in Parliament is of course by no means the exclusive domain of disabled representatives. Yet, in practice it is frequently politicians who belong to a particular group who speak out on behalf of that group, often drawing on their own lived experience. Whether members of a marginalised group have a seat at the table can also send a powerful signal about the group’s role in society. Therefore, given the significant inequalities and exclusion that the disability community continues to face, the question of political representation is particularly important for them.

Disabled people are underrepresented amongst politicians globally, but what about the new Scottish Parliament? It is difficult to get accurate data, as many disabilities are invisible and some politicians might be hesitant to disclose them, for instance because they prefer to focus on other political issues or because of the negative stigma that continues to exist in society. Although recent research suggests that public attitudes towards disabled politicians are often rather positive, in reality they face a substantive risk of harassment and (online) abuse. Some disabled politicians have also reported negative reactions from within their parties, with some being questioned about whether they would be “up to the job”. Keeping this caveat in mind, it appears that at least 9 disabled candidates were elected on 7th May, all of them representing the SNP or Scottish Greens (based on figures from Inclusion Scotland and politicians who have publicly identified as disabled). Accounting for 7% of MSPs, this number is far lower than the 24.1% of Scots who report a long-term health condition or disability. Still, it is a significant increase from the estimated 5 disabled MSPs in the last Parliament, and certainly higher than the estimated 2% in the House of Commons. One of the newly elected MSPs is Kayleigh Kinross-O’Neill, who uses a wheelchair and draws on her experience as a local councillor and disability activist.

A key policy aimed to improve disability representation in Scotland is the pioneering Access to Elected Office Fund, which covers the additional costs that disabled candidates face campaigning. According to Inclusion Scotland, who have administered the Fund since 2016, 21 candidates made use of it in this election, up from 14 in 2021. Five of these candidates got elected, a record number. The main expenses the Fund covered to make the election campaign a more level playing field were for personal assistants, travel, coaching, and assistive technology.

Besides the number of disabled MSPs, the parties’ manifestos also give us an indication of what disability policy in Scotland might look like over the next years. A first clue about how much the parties care about representing the disability community is the accessibility of their manifestos. Ideally, all parties would publish their manifestos in audio, Braille, British Sign Language (BSL), Easy Read, and large or clear print. Only the SNP published their manifesto in all these formats, while the Liberal Democrats, Labour, and Greens each provided three of them (none in BSL). The Conservatives and Reform UK supplied no accessible manifestos.

And what have the parties promised to do for disabled people over the next parliamentary term? The diversity of attention to disability across the manifestos is striking. While the Greens have dedicated “Disabled People” and “Mental Health and Neurodivergence” sections, Reform UK’s manifesto does not include any specific pledges to disabled people. Table 1 summarises which issues each party’s manifesto addresses. Similarly to manifesto accessibility, the number of disability-related pledges differs significantly along the ideological spectrum. While the SNP provided the most accessible manifestos, the Greens set out the most comprehensive agenda on how to improve the lives of disabled Scots. The coming months and years will show to what extent these pledges will be fulfilled, and whether the new cohort of disabled, and disability activist, MSPs will be driving this agenda.

Table 1. Issues addressed by parties’ manifesto pledges to disabled people

About the authors

Reher is Professor of Political Science at the University of Strathclyde. Her research examines the participation, experiences, and representation of disabled people in politics, as well as public opinion about diversity in policymaking. She is the author, with Elizabeth Evans, of Disability and Political Representation (Oxford University Press).

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Looking beyond numbers: gender sensitivity in the new parliament

By Meryl Kenny and Sarah Childs

This blog is based on an article first published in the Scottish Election Analysis Report.

Only a few weeks before the pre-election dissolution of the Scottish Parliament, Holyrood passed a series of standing order rule changes to take effect from the start of the new Parliament. Amongst their number were new rules: (i) ruling out single sex committees; (ii) requiring due regard be given to gender balance in committees, the Parliamentary Bureau, and the Scottish Parliamentary Corporate Body; and (iii) the introduction of a sex quota for the positions of Presiding Officer and Deputy Presiding Officers. The adoption of these reforms is one of the key outcomes of the parliament’s gender-sensitive audit – launched by the Presiding Officer Alison Johnstone in 2022 to address obstacles to women’s equal representation and participation at Holyrood.

A gender-sensitive parliament (GSP) is a global democratic standard that places responsibility on parliaments as institutions for ensuring gender equality across all aspects of their work and culture. In the run-up to the 25th anniversary of the Scottish Parliament, the Presiding Officer framed the GSP audit as a critical moment to evaluate the institution’s record to date and, crucially, identify what work still needed to be done. While the Scottish Parliament has been internationally lauded for its founding commitments to family friendliness and equalities, the audit highlighted both progress and regress on these initial achievements. Meanwhile, commentary from women MSPs themselves – a significant number of whom stood down in 2026 – pointed to ongoing barriers to institutional inclusion, including inhospitable institutional and party cultures, the rise of violence against women in politics, and the difficulties of balancing a political career with caring responsibilities. What matters then is not just how many women or other under-represented groups get elected to parliament, but also what happens after they get there.  

By early 2026, all but three of the thirty-four recommendations (over 90 per cent) from the audit’s report A Parliament for All have been implemented (in part or in full). In addition to the above standing order rule changes, other significant reforms in comparative terms introduced new parliamentary bodies, including a women’s caucus and an oversight group – the Gender Sensitive Advisory Group. The latter group – chaired by the Presiding Officer from 2023-2026, with MSPs from the main parties, parliamentary staff, and external experts – was tasked to oversee the delivery of the report’s recommendations and the Parliament’s progress towards gender sensitivity. Gender-sensitive data collection has also been successfully embedded in routine and everyday administration, including: regular tracking of committee membership and leadership roles; chamber participation; decision and sitting time data; and member’s experiences. New research was also commissioned by the Gender Sensitive Advisory Group: including a disability audit of the parliamentary estate; research on job-share for MSPs; and the introduction of a parents and carers survey. Other recommendations are planned for the new parliamentary session, including provision planned for MSP induction. The Scottish Parliament’s GSP work is also impacting other parliaments across the UK, with an audit already completed in the Welsh Senedd (2025-26), in the form of a Family Friendliness and Inclusive Parliament Review, and a GSP audit planned for the Northern Ireland Assembly.  

While on these measures, the Scottish Parliament could be considered a GSP success story, there are some grounds for caution, and the new parliament may be a less conducive institutional context for GSP. The presence of the populist radical right party Reform, and the increasing polarization of politics more generally as well as contestation around gender equality issues specifically, will almost certainly challenge cross-party working on these issues in the new parliament. Indeed, Reform’s manifesto commitments include proposals to roll back changes that have sought to make the parliament more accessible and inclusive – for example, discarding the Parliament’s post-Covid hybrid participation model in favour of imposing compulsory physical attendance and voting. Comparatively, parliaments have taken different approaches to these challenges. In Sweden, for example, the Swedish Parliament’s Gender Equality Working Group includes representatives from the right-wing Sweden Democrats. In contrast, in Catalonia, parties operate a cordon sanitaire to exclude far-right representation from gender equality and GSP efforts. John Swinney’s decision to exclude Reform UK from post-election discussions suggests that Scotland’s approach may reflect more of the latter than the former.

Progress on women’s representation in 2026 has stalled – dropping from 45% to 43% in 2026 – with only one political party (the Scottish Greens) achieving equal representation or better amongst its elected members. New members – and particularly a new Presiding Officer – may lead to different priorities. Yet, while the drop in women’s representation could reduce the demand for GSP; on the other, it could catalyse further calls for reform. The work of the previous PO and the GSP Advisory Group to date and the embedding of some recommendations in the everyday work of the parliament make it more likely that the GSP ‘baton’ will be taken up in the new Parliament. In this, GSP is inextricably intertwined with the institutional interest of continuing to work towards a better parliament – one that is “truly representative, transparent, accessible, accountable and effective in all its functions”

About the authors

Meryl Kenny is the Head of Politics and International Relations and Professor of Gender and Politics at the University of Edinburgh.

Sarah Childs is Professor of Politics and Gender at the University of Edinburgh.

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Eyes and ears, and potentially so much more: the role of Parliamentary Private Secretary to the Prime Minister

By Tim Bale

This blog is based on an article originally published in Parliamentary Affairs by the author.

Keir Starmer, in his first eighteen months, has had three.  Rishi Sunak and Liz Truss had one each.  Boris Johnson contrived to have nine, while Theresa May made do with just three, as did David Cameron.  Gordon Brown had four, as did Tony Blair. John Major managed with only two, while Margaret Thatcher had five. 

The superbly well-informed readers of this blog will, of course, know that I’m talking about Parliamentary Private Secretaries.  Yet, with only one or two exceptions, remarkably little has been written on the role – partly perhaps because, as Tim Finch, one of those who has examined it in more detail put it, a PPS is often seen as little more than a ‘bag carrier’.  Yet, as he noted, they have the potential to become a ‘linchpin,’ expanding the scope of the role beyond two-way communication between the Prime Minister and their parliamentary party so as to become a vital part of the PM’s tactical and strategic operation.

The exemplar, perhaps, is Ian Gow, who served as Margaret Thatcher’s PPS from during her first term as Prime Minister.  He was regarded by Thatcher and most of those who served her as a brilliant appointment and, by some margin, as the best PPS she ever had.  It was a role which (in hindsight reluctantly) he relinquished in 1983 in exchange for a junior ministerial job, although he was eventually to resign from government in protest at the Anglo-Irish Agreement two years later.  Even then, however, he insisted on his continued devotion to the woman he (along with her many other admirers at the time) called ‘The Lady.’

Sadly, no PPS since Gow (who died at the hands of the IRA in 1990) seems to have fully realised the enormous potential of the role – a pity, perhaps, given how difficult so many of our recent premiers seem to have found their job. Had they been able or seen fit to appoint someone who could do even half of what Gow did for, they might perhaps have struggled a little less and maybe even have achieved a little more.

Naturally, much of what a PPS does and can do inevitably takes place behind closed doors – one reason why, even if it only allows us to prise (rather than fling) open those doors, exploring contemporaneous archive and diary material, can, especially when combined with material gleaned from ministerial memoirs and interviews, provide us with more insight than hitherto. And this is exactly what my article just published online (and free to read) in Parliamentary Affairs tries to achieve.

Gow, it argues, serves as a reminder of the role that, potentially at least, a good PPS to the PM can play – a role that that goes well beyond ‘eyes and ears’ and, for all that the 2020s are not the 1980s, could still be played today if, that is, someone willing to play it is allowed the requisite leeway.

A Parliamentary Private Secretary to the PM is there to explain the Prime Minister to the parliamentary party and the parliamentary party to the Prime Minister, getting a sense of pitfalls and problems before they turn into something more serious.  He or she should remind their boss of the need to engage with back-benchers and junior frontbenchers on all sides of the party.  Gow, unlike his successors, did not attend Cabinet meetings; but he showed even so that a PPS to the PM is able to influence them, albeit informally.  He or she can also have considerable influence on reshuffles and, fairly or unfairly, on how ministers are regarded by the Prime Minister.  And, if adept at the dark arts, he or she can help the PM deny Cabinet colleagues too much autonomy.  Moreover, if on the same wavelength ideologically as his or her boss, the PPS can also serve not just as a sounding board but as their conscience, stiffening their spine as well as helping with key speeches.  And he or she can play a part in helping the Prime Minister make that supposedly loneliest of decisions – namely when to call an election.

But the role requires a certain sort of individual to do the job well.  They need to be gregarious but also shrewd, relatable but also ruthless. Not only do they have to know their boss’s mind, and their strengths and weaknesses, but they also have to be willing to speak truth to power.  Gow’s apparently phenomenal tolerance for alcohol may not be so necessary nowadays – the Commons has changed (although, some argue, not enough) in that respect.  But a willingness to work far more hours than is strictly sensible probably still is – so much so that MPs who have the combination of personal qualities and sheer commitment needed to make a success of the role may well be a rarer commodity nowadays.  But they are nonetheless a highly valuable one. 

Many recent Prime Ministers, Thatcher included, have eventually been forced out owing to their failure to keep in close touch with (and a close eye on) their colleagues on both the front and back benches – in part through the wont of a high calibre consigliere like Gow.  Whoever takes over from Sir Keir Starmer, then, be it sooner or later, would be well advised to take as much time and care in appointing their PPS as they do in choosing their Cabinet.

About the author

Tim Bale is Professor of Politics in the Department of Politics and International Relations at Queen Mary University of London.

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Everything you ever wanted to know about Early Day Motions (between 2001 & 2019)

By Stephen Holden Bates

This blog was part of a larger project undertaken on policy specialisation and parliamentary roles with Caroline Bhattacharya and Stephen McKay, both of whom were involved in the collection and analysis of the data used in this blog. A draft of this blog has been hanging around for a few years now which explains why it doesn’t cover the 2019-2024 Parliament – apologies for that!

Backbench MPs can submit Early Day Motions (EDMs) “to put on record [their] views … or to draw attention to specific events or campaigns“. In this blog we show which groups of MPs are more likely to use EDMs, and which topics they focus on.

Popularity of EDMs over time

Table 1 shows the most popular EDMs submitted between the 1989-90 parliamentary session and the 2019 General Election. During this time, 50,849 EDMs were submitted, receiving 1,968,850 signatures from 1,722 signatories. This means the average MP sponsored and signed 29.5 and 1143.4 EDMs respectively with the average EDM receiving 38.7 signatures (although the mode is one).

The number of EDMs submitted per sitting day decreased after 2010, but the average number of signatures attracted remained comparable over time. The average number of EDMs per sponsor and per signatory remained comparable; MPs remained as likely to sponsor and sign at least one EDM.

Table 1: Top 10 most popular EDMs, 1989-2019

TitleParl. SessionNum. Signatories
INDIA AND PAKISTAN2001-02503
MAKE POVERTY HISTORY IN 2005 CAMPAIGN2004-05455
CLIMATE CHANGE2004-05416
FIRST AID IN SCHOOLS1991-92416
BBC WORLD SERVICE1992-93408
PRESIDENTIAL & PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS IN SIERRA LEONE (No. 2)2001-02402
ABOLITION OF THE POST OFFICE CARD ACCOUNT2005-06398
WARM HOMES & ENERGY CONSERVATION1999-2000396
POST OFFICE CARD ACCOUNTS2002-03392
PRESIDENTIAL & PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS IN SIERRA LEONE2001-02387
[source: EDM database]  

Popularity of EDMs among (different groups of) MPs

Some MPs were (very) prolific in terms of signing or being the primary sponsor on EDMs with most of the most prolific being white and male, usually from the Labour Party (see Table 2).  

Table 2: Top 10 most prolific primary sponsors and signatories of EDMs overall and per Sitting Day not in Government, 1989-2019

RankNameGenderEthnicityPartyNum. EDMs OverallNum. EDMs per Sitting Day
   SponsoredSponsored
Number Sponsored Overall  
1Jeremy CorbynMaleWhiteLab.8330.06
2Paul FlynnMaleWhiteLab.7920.07
3Keith VazMaleBritish AsianLab.7310.07
4Alan MealeMaleWhiteLab.7310.07
5John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.6940.09
6Lindsay HoyleMaleWhiteLab.6220.08
7Peter BottomleyMaleWhiteCon.5630.05
8Bob RussellMaleWhiteLib. Dem.5450.08
9Harry BarnesMaleWhiteLab.4930.08
10Bob SpinkMaleWhiteCon.4710.09
Number Sponsored per Sitting Day not in Government
1Paul MonaghanMaleWhiteSNP1010.14
2Jim ShannonMaleWhiteDUP4110.12
3Robert HalfonMaleWhiteCon.2980.11
4David LindenMaleWhiteSNP830.09
5Bob SpinkMaleWhiteCon.4710.09
6Greg MulhollandMaleWhiteLib. Dem.3990.09
7Simon ThomasMaleWhitePC1650.09
8John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.6940.09
9Bob RussellMaleWhiteLib. Dem.5450.08
10Kirsten OswaldFemaleWhiteSNP590.08
   SignedSigned
Number Signed Overall  
1Jeremy CorbynMaleWhiteLab.194601.49
2Alan MealeMaleWhiteLab.183661.77
3Mike HancockMaleWhiteLib. Dem.177782.36
4Alan SimpsonMaleWhiteLab.176602.71
5John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.175042.17
6Lynne JonesFemaleWhiteLab.166362.56
7Bill EtheringtonMaleWhiteLab.165752.55
8Kelvin HopkinsMaleWhiteLab.155431.92
9Peter BottomleyMaleWhiteCon.153731.24
10Ann CryerFemaleWhiteLab.152813.26
Number Signed per Sitting Day not in Government
1Ann CryerFemaleWhiteLab.152813.26
2Rudi VisMaleWhiteLab.148163.16
3Alan SimpsonMaleWhiteLab.176602.71
4John LeechMaleWhiteLib. Dem.92682.58
5Lynne JonesFemaleWhiteLab.166362.56
6Bill EtheringtonMaleWhiteLab.165752.55
7Mike HancockMaleWhiteLib. Dem.177782.36
8Martin CatonMaleWhiteLab.151552.34
9Chris StephensMaleWhiteSNP36222.25
10John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.175042.17

Network analysis can be used to identify clusters of EDM co-signatories (i.e. MPs who are more likely to sign the same EDMs). Figure(s) 1 shows the EDM co-signatory networks for each of the five parliaments between 2001 and 2019, switching between showing the network by party and then by cluster for each Parliament. For the Party view, the nodes in the figures are colour-coded by party with the edges also colour coded to indicate (cross-)partisan linkages. For example, a red node with a purple edge would indicate a Labour MP with cross-partisan links with Conservative MPs. For the Cluster view, the nodes are simply colour coded by cluster. For both, the size of the node relates to the likelihood of an MP acting as a bridge between different parts of the network with larger nodes indicating a greater propensity to broker.

The figure shows that three clusters of EDM co-signatories can be identified in each parliament from 2001 onwards, except for 2015-17 where there were two. Where there are three clusters, two of these are mainly comprised of Conservative MPs and Labour MPs respectively with the third being mainly made up of another group of Labour MPs and MPs from smaller parties. For 2015-17, there is a smaller cluster mainly comprising SNP MPs and then a large cluster made up of everyone else. However, none of the clusters are particularly distinct with all being cross-partisan and with lots of interaction taking place between them and the MPs therein. The network of EDM signatories is thus generally a tightly knit one with the clusters which comprise it not being separate but rather interrelated. The network has become more clustered over time however.

Focusing on some key figures within these EDM networks, Figure(s) 2 shows the core group networks of the most active EDM co-signatories (co-signing at least 40% of EDMs) for each of the five parliaments. The fact that there is only one core group for each parliament reinforces the idea that the EDM network is an integrated one without particularly distinct clusters. Mirroring the results presented in Table 2, the networks are dominated by white, male Labour MPs, and perhaps more accurately Labour MPs who are members of the Socialist Campaign Group, at least until 2015 after which MPs from smaller parties – specifically, the SNP and the DUP – become dominant. This trend is probably a result of MPs such as Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell moving into leadership positions and not having the time and/or proclivity to sign (as many) EDMs as previously. This would then have a knock-on effect of disrupting relationships in the cluster of which these MPs were a part and, consequently, the wider network. Other relationships would then come to the fore.

Figure(s) 1: Early Day Motion Co-Signatory Networks by Parliament

Figure(s) 2: Core group networks of most active EDM co-signatories by Parliament

Characteristics of MPs who sponsor & sign EDMs

Conservative MPs were less likely to sponsor and sign EDMs than Labour and other party MPs (Figure(s) 3) and, when they did, they were also less likely to sponsor and sign as many: the average Conservative MP sponsored and signed 8.6 and 140 EDMs, whereas the figures for the average Labour MP and other party MP were 15.7 and 533, and 26.0 and 874 respectively.

Figure(s) 3: Percentage point difference between proportion of EDM activity and proportion of MPs in Parliament by party, 1989-2019

Female and ethnic minority MPs tended to be sponsors and signatories of EDMs roughly in line with their presence in Parliament (Figure(s) 4). There is some evidence that male sponsors and signatories were more likely to sponsor and sign more EDMs than their female counterparts, especially after 1997 but this gap closed during the last two Parliaments in our analysis. White sponsors were more likely to sponsor more EDMs than ethnic minority sponsors since 2001 but there was no clear trend regarding ethnicity and the ratio of signatories to signatures.

Figure(s) 4: Percentage point difference between proportion of EDM activities and proportion of female and ethnic minority MPs in Parliament, 1989-2019

EDM topics

EDMs are not directed to a particular department so we used topic modelling to identify 27 different policy areas. social welfare, macroeconomics and international affairs are the most popular topics mentioned in EDMs with at least a quarter being related to at least one of these topics (Figure 5). Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are the least popular topics.

Perhaps the most notable trend in the popularity of topics is the steady increase over time in EDMs which mention social policy (Figure(s) 6). Other topics which tended to increase in popularity over time, at least to a certain extent, are civil rights, domestic commerce, education, energy, health, and technology. Topics which tended to decrease in popularity over time, again at least to a certain extent, are agriculture, foreign trade, government operations, international affairs, and law & crime. Other topics remained broadly flat (although macroeconomics did have an increase around the time of the financial crash before falling back slowly to around the same level of popularity as previously).

When comparing different groups of MPs, what is most notable is the consistency in the topic rankings for MPs from different parties. The top five topics are the same for Conservative MPs, Labour MPs and MPs from other parties, even if the order of the ranking is not the same. Perhaps the only notable difference is the ranking of the topic labour. This topic is ranked 13th out of 27 for EDMs sponsored by a Labour MP, whereas it’s ranked 23rd and 20th for EDMs sponsored by a Conservative MP and an MP from another party respectively.

With regard to gender, Civil rights, education, health and social welfare are all more popular topics with female sponsors compared to their male counterparts with international affairs having the biggest difference between the popularity among male sponsors compared to their female counterparts. With regard to ethnicity, the biggest differences in the popularity among sponsors from an ethnic minority background compared to their white counterparts are for the topics civil rights, defence, immigration, international affairs, and social welfare.

Figure 5: Percentage of EDMs which mention topic


Figure(s) 6: Percentage of EDMs which mention topic by parliamentary session

About the author

Dr Stephen Holden Bates is a Senior Lecturer in Political Science at the Department of Political Science and International Studies at the University of Birmingham.

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Not about the best, but about the possible: working on the Welsh electoral system

By Dr Larissa Peixoto Gomes.

It must be said that Wales is a place of complex identity that I would never claim to personally understand. Many Welsh people see themselves as British, others see themselves as British and Welsh, others as Welsh and British, others still as Welsh only (Henderson 2021). Some that I have spoken to claim that they have been colonised by the English, some that they are part of the British empire. Yet, despite its complex and often contradictory nature, I did find points of similarity with my own place of origin and helped contribute to the academic debate.

Throughout the devolution process, Wales has taken the British/English institutions that they were left with and mostly maintained how they functioned under British rule, at best making incremental changes rather than making it their own, despite having the freedom to do so. When devolution finally came about, Wales and Scotland chose the same type of mixed-member proportional system, adding a proportional element to the already present pluralist system. It created a complex voting system that is misunderstood by most and has led to an abstention rate as high as 53% for Senedd elections. Wales was already a Labour stronghold, which could explain the impetus to maintain, at the time, a system that is widely accepted to return legislatures that are often ideologically and regionally unrepresentative. Currently, the government and the Senedd have been making an effort to reform the electoral system in various areas, which is where I came in.[1]

The view from outside

Welsh Government was scouring the globe for best practices in electoral administration, as the rules around elections, what is normally referred to as electoral reform, had already been the topic of an expert report (McAllister et al. 2017). Specifically, they wanted to explore ways to improve voter turnout and to understand whether issues of safety were keeping marginalised people from running. Like many other governments, they commission experts to write reports on topics they are looking to better understand, and they often do so through the Wales Centre for Public Policy (WCPP), at Cardiff University, which had just happened to hire me, in 2021, during the Covid-19 pandemic.

As political scientists, we often discuss political opportunity and change but are not always on the practical side of that. The meetings mostly involved civil servants, and it was crucial to have them be honest about the political context and the actual scope for change due to the steep learning curve about Wales that lay ahead of me. The process itself involved deciding which aspects of electoral administration they wanted to tackle, guiding them through the political science, while they guided me through the politics, i.e., how much they were willing and able to change things.

During these discussions, I was able to make the case for the broadest spectrum of possibilities so that there would be a “menu” of sorts. Yet it was important to demonstrate not just the many possibilities they could choose from, but that by pulling on one thread, another might unravel. For example, increasing the number of polling stations to help with voter participation is a fine idea in principle, but it’s not going to make a difference if people don’t have a way to get to them. This process also included going beyond the Anglo-Saxon Commonwealth and the Global North for cases, considerations around offline electronic voting and its potential for transparency, access, and data, and clarifying understanding that to discuss inclusion and safety measures for marginalised candidates, the whole potential politician pipeline had to be reviewed. These and many other building blocks had to be carefully worded to ensure that the goal remained: ensuring that people who weren’t going to the polls or submitting their ballots found a way to do so, even if that mean overcoming obstacles or disengagement. If the goal is enfranchisement, it has to be more than who isn’t in the room, but why, and what can we do to bring the room to them.

Ultimately, the report Reform of electoral law and practice included early voting, special voting arrangements (innovative electoral practices, as per their jargon), candidate and agent safety, campaign finances and spending, and electoral management bodies. The SVA section included postal and flexible voting, offline electronic ballot boxes, and ways to make voter registration easier and more accessible. Presentations played a key role, where the practices were explained in detail and with examples, such as demonstrating how electoral data repositories work.

The Elections and Elected Bodies (Wales) Bill was passed on 9 July 2024. Items included were an electoral administration body, automatic voter registration, an online platform that centralises election information, specific services for inclusion of marginalised groups aiming for diversity in candidacies, and increased campaign finance rules and oversight. Meanwhile, what seemed to be their biggest concern at the time, spoiled ballots in postal voting, does not feature in the new law. In the final debate, Members of the Senedd (MSs) voted for the bill claiming its importance for Welsh democracy (Plenary 09/07/2024). Two of my biggest concerns, lack of physical access to polling stations due to transportation and lack of secrecy in voting for blind people, went unaddressed, but the hope (that most fragile and beautiful of things), is that these will be considered and improved one day.

A relationship between academia and policy-making

Writing reports and evidence[2] is a great way to do some literature review and keep up with the research out there, but it is good to keep expectations low. The Reform of electoral law and practice was published in 2022, with something here and there alluding to it, but nothing concrete. Impact can indeed take a long time and I moved to a different department at Cardiff University.

At one point, Laura McAllister invited me to write a piece of evidence for the Senedd with her, regarding job sharing for Welsh politicians. Having witnessed and read about the experience of collective candidacies in Brazil and elsewhere, I did feel I had something to contribute, so Laura and I submitted our evidence.

I was then invited by the Senedd’s Business Committee to submit written evidence and attend the oral evidence session on the Senedd Cymru (Electoral Candidate Lists) Bill, which proposed the application of gender quotas in the now closed-list proportional representation system of Wales. Sadly, the bill was withdrawn by Welsh Government, probably due to fear over constitutional issues and that the UK government would challenge it.

I have been in other meetings with Senedd civil servants, have submitted more written evidence in job sharing and the bill submission process, was interviewed as a case study for Senedd engagement, spoke at The Learned Society of Wales about how to give evidence, and participated in discussions on the Diversity and inclusion guidance for political parties. Five years after I had started at Cardiff University, I am still a foreigner, but one who has been able to write other works about Wales. I find myself particularly concerned with transportation for MPs and the location of polling stations, something that hasn’t been taken into much consideration.

Validation, citations, and impact

As academics, we tend to look for validation in publication first and then, in citations. Being cited, even to be criticised, means that our peers have judged our work valuable enough to be repeated, judged next to theirs, improved upon. We do not often consider the possibility of actual change to the system being made by us. And our evaluation systems often do not take into account anything but peer-reviewed publications, in the ‘correct’ journals or publishers.

As an immigrant and a non-white woman, there is a feeling that I am not allowed to be wrong, which means that if they do nothing, it’s fine, but if they do something on my advice and it fails, it’ll be my fault. They won’t look to blame me, no one will say my name, but many therapy sessions will be spent on it.

But I have found that being a foreign academic in the UK, having earned my degrees in Brazil, has been one of my strengths (not that I haven’t face my share of prejudices). Not just because I came from the Global South, not just because I came from a country with an imperfect, but very good electoral administration system, but because an interdisciplinary social sciences and comparative methodology training taught me to look beyond the country and attempt to understand the framework that sustains it. I found that being able to ask them to change “the way things were”, putting my finger on those dusty corners that no one had wanted or thought to touch really opened doors and pricked up ears. However, actually working on it, being possibly responsible for people’s access to the polling station, reminded me about the humanity of the process.

[1] Wales has now fully reformed its electoral system to closed list proportional.

[2] For those not into the British lingo, “evidence” can be oral or written evidence, which are submission of expertise to politicians within the context of their respective legislature and a topic.

About the author

Dr Larissa Peixoto Gomes is a postdoctoral research fellow on the ERC-funded QUALREP project and is based at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland.

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AI integration in lawmaking requires a parliamentary change process, not just a tech project

By Franklin De Vrieze.

Across democratic governance systems, parliaments are facing a paradox. Never before have there been so many technological tools promising to improve legislative scrutiny, evidence use, and public engagement. Yet never has the gap between the pace of technological change and the capacity of democratic institutions to respond felt so wide. This is not simply a story about adopting new software or experimenting with artificial intelligence (AI); it is about institutional transformation. The application of technology and AI in legislative scrutiny requires a fundamental change process in parliaments: one that reshapes data practices, organisational culture, and even how we conceptualise lawmaking itself.

The pacing problem: when governance moves slower than technology

The “pacing problem” captures the growing mismatch between rapid technological innovation and slower institutional adaptation and governance.

Westminster Foundation for Democracy (WFD) and POPVOX Foundation distinguish three interlocking layers of this challenge with regards to parliaments. First, the external pacing problem: parliaments struggle to keep up with technologies already embedded in society. Secondly, the intra-government pacing problem: executives are often early adopters of AI for service delivery, policy design, or enforcement, while legislatures lag behind in their ability to scrutinise these tools effectively, reinforming existing patterns of executive dominance. Thirdly, the internal pacing problem: parliamentary ICT systems, data structures, and workflows frequently remain fragmented, paper-based, or incompatible with modern analytical tools.

The risks of inaction are not abstract. According to the IPU World e-Parliament Report 2024, over 70% of parliaments globally now publish legislative information online, but fewer than half report having interoperable legislative data systems capable of supporting advanced analysis. As AI adoption accelerates in the executive and private sectors, these internal weaknesses can translate into real power asymmetries, further weakening legislative oversight and checks and balances.

How parliaments are already using AI

Despite these challenges, parliaments are not starting from zero. A growing number are experimenting with AI across administrative, legislative, and participatory functions.

On the administrative side, AI is increasingly used to automate transcription, translation, document classification, and summarisation. The European Parliament, for example, deploys eTranslation, speech-to-text systems, and automated indexing to manage multilingual debates and documents at scale. Similar AI functions are noted in the Canadian House of Commons.

Legislatively, AI tools are being applied to amendment analysis, legal consistency checks, and information retrieval. Italy’s Parliament has piloted AI-supported compliance checking of amendments against constitutional and legal constraints. The National Assembly of France has created tools using open data to model fiscal and social impacts and to compare draft bills with existing legislation.

Perhaps the most comprehensive example is Brazil’s Ulysses Suite, an integrated parliamentary AI ecosystem supporting everything from bill analysis to citizen interaction. These cases reflect a broader trend: many parliaments are piloting AI for legislative research, amendment tracking, and committee support.

Yet experimentation alone does not equal transformation. Many pilots remain isolated, dependent on individual champions, or constrained by legacy systems and procurement rules.

Technology across the legislative cycle

The potential of AI becomes clearer when viewed across the full legislative cycle. As highlighted in the Course Manual for the Certified Course on Legislative Scrutiny and Technology, technology is already reshaping each phase of lawmaking.

  • During legislative drafting, AI-assisted tools can analyse vast corpora of statutes and case law, suggesting language aligned with existing norms and reducing ambiguity. This supports consistency without replacing human judgment.
  • In ex-ante impact assessment, predictive modelling and data analytics allow parliaments to interrogate the likely economic, social, or environmental consequences of proposed legislation. Such tools can surface unintended effects earlier in the process, strengthening evidence-based scrutiny.
  • Citizen engagement is also being transformed. Digital platforms enable large-scale consultations, while AI can help analyse submissions, identify patterns, and surface underrepresented perspectives. This is particularly valuable as consultation volumes increase beyond what manual analysis can reasonably handle. Some argue for a path of Augmented Deliberation regarding citizen-initiated mechanisms for democratic participation, including a governance roadmap of digital guardrails such as AI watermarking, public-interest AI platforms, and independent algorithmic audits.
  • Finally, in post-enactment analysis, data analytics can track implementation and outcomes, support post-legislative scrutiny and close feedback loops between lawmaking and lived experience.

These applications demonstrate that AI does not sit at the margins of parliamentary work. It intersects with core legislative functions.

The centrality of explainability

The opportunities are significant, but so are the risks. AI evolves faster than parliamentary cycles, creating persistent regulatory lag. Existing standing orders and parliamentary procedures rarely anticipate automated analysis or algorithmic support. Capacity gaps mean expertise is often concentrated in a handful of staff or external vendors, raising dependency risks.

There are also well-documented technical and ethical challenges: bias in training data, errors and “hallucinations” in generative AI, data protection concerns when handling sensitive parliamentary or constituency information, and the growing threat of AI-enabled disinformation through synthetic submissions, as analysed by OECD, among others.

Across all these risks, one principle stands out: explainability. As Bruce Schneier and Nathan Sanders have argued in their book “Rewiring Democracy”, democratic institutions cannot rely on systems they do not understand. If MPs and staff cannot interrogate how an AI tool reached a conclusion, its outputs cannot legitimately inform legislative scrutiny. Explainability is therefore not a technical luxury but a democratic requirement.

AI adoption is a change process, not a tech project

Too often, AI adoption is framed as a procurement or IT challenge. In reality, it is an institutional change process. Deploying tools without addressing underlying data quality, governance, skills, and culture will at best produce marginal gains, and at worst undermine trust.

Effective change requires attention to at least six interlinked elements: strategy, prioritisation, implementation, governance, training, and coordination. It involves iterative piloting rather than “big bang” rollouts; cross-parliamentary governance bodies rather than siloed initiatives; and continuous learning rather than one-off training.

Data governance is foundational. Without legislature-wide data maps, data management plans, and interoperable systems, AI outputs will be unreliable or biased. Treating data as a strategic asset is a precondition for any meaningful AI readiness.

Crucially, this change process also invites deeper reflection. Rethinking lawmaking in terms of “law as code”, exploring how digital tools reshape legislative design, and reimagining human oversight so that humans remain firmly “in the loop” are all parts of the transformation.

The theory of organizational change by sociologist Everett Rogers, called the Diffusion of Innovations, points at different categories how people adapt to proposed changes. In any organization, including in parliaments, some are innovators, early adapters, early majority, late majority and the laggards. The innovators are often in a minority, but their approach will determine if the majority adapts and accepts the proposed changes. Similar categories on people’s approach to change applies to parliaments when introducing AI in the parliamentary workspace.

Frameworks to guide the journey

Parliaments do not have to navigate this alone. The Guidelines for AI in Parliament, published by the WFD, provide a practical framework covering ethics, governance, capacity, and implementation. Complementing this, the IPU’s Maturity Framework for AI in Parliaments offers a self-assessment tool across six levels, from “initial” awareness to “leadership”, where parliaments act as global benchmarks. The UK Parliament has issued guidance to its Members on the use of generative AI tools.

Together, these frameworks suggest a pragmatic path forward: start with pilots, invest in data foundations, prioritise explainable systems, learn from peers, and embed AI within transparent, ethics-driven governance structures.

Bridging expertise: lawmaking, technology, and parliamentary strengthening

Finally, successful transformation depends on people as much as systems. One of the clearest lessons from comparative practice is the need to connect three communities that too often operate separately: lawmaking experts, technology specialists, and parliamentary strengthening practitioners.

This was the guiding logic behind the January 2026 Certified Course on Legislative Scrutiny and Technology, which deliberately brought these three perspectives together. Hence, it was co-organized by leaders in each of these three fields: Institute of Advanced Legal Studies (IALS) of the University of London, Popvox Foundation and WFD. Legislative quality scholars, parliamentary officials, technology specialists, and democracy practitioners all contributed to a shared understanding: AI in parliament is not just about efficiency, but about safeguarding democratic legitimacy in an age of acceleration.

The rise of AI and legislative technology is not merely an administrative upgrade. It is a fundamental institutional challenge. If parliaments fail to adapt, the pacing problem will deepen, oversight will weaken, and democratic accountability will erode. If they succeed, AI can become a powerful ally in strengthening scrutiny, transparency, and public trust.

About the author

Franklin De Vrieze is the Head of Practice Accountability at the Westminster Foundation for Democracy.

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Remembering David Judge

By Cristina Leston-Bandeira.

How does one write about someone who you never thought would not be here? How do you put on paper how much that person meant to you? Contrary to David, I’m terrible at writing; he would know what I want to say, without me having to say it.

For no particular reason or design, David Judge became a sort of mentor to me – and this happened without either of us thinking about it, but simply because he was such an extraordinary person and such a pleasure to work with. He was a major intellectual force in parliamentary studies, having looked at pretty much every angle well before many others, just not making much of a fuss about it, whilst also being a wonderful and kind person.

Representation, the incongruities of democratic representation, and theory would become his preferred focus, but he addressed pretty much everything else in parliamentary studies. From his seminal study on petitions in 1978 and his PhD on backbench specialisation in the UK Parliament, to his landmark The Parliamentary State, his series of books on the European Parliament, and our recent co-edited book on Reimagining Parliament, David had an eye to spot what really mattered. Also, he understood intuitively why it mattered to study different legislatures.

And yet, talking to him, you’d never get a sense of the giant scholar he was. He was never one for self-promotion and as much of a self-deprecating academic as there ever was, as illustrated by his responses to the ‘Urgent Questions’ feature of the PSA Parliaments specialist group.

The first time I met David was in Manheim in 1999 at an ECPR Joint Workshop he had put together with Gabriella Ilonszki (Corvinus University of Budapest). I was a young PhD student, away from my 2-year-old son, doing the stuff that we need to do as academics, presenting work at conferences; and very unsure that I had anything to say, especially in a workshop full of big names such as David and Michael Rush (another lovely man and huge in parliamentary studies, now also sadly gone). David obviously put me totally at ease, in a very discreet way, simply because he was kind and he understood what it meant to be unsure and to be away from your young child. Something that not many male academics understood in the late 1990s.

A few years went by, and David was less present in academic circles because he became Head of Department at Strathclyde University’s School of Government. I never worked at Strathclyde, but I know how dedicated he was to the role and how it took him away from the research and writing he so loved. He had the good sense to take early retirement and regain time for thinking and writing.

He should have been just enjoying his very well deserved retirement of course, but he kept answering the call to do more. He enjoyed the challenge of new ideas, whilst making the most of being away from academia as such. It was thanks to this that I had the privilege to work with him and co-author a couple of articles and co-edit a book. He also kept a close eye on what was happening and every so often would email me with ideas of things that needed pursuing.

To talk of David without mentioning his Lorraine, and Ben and Hannah, though, is not to mention David at all. David was so proud of his family. Every opportunity was good enough to mention Lorraine and her hope of travel and time away from work; the immense pride in his children, the repairs in Hannah’s flat, Ben’s wedding. They were all always just next to David.

The last time David and I met in person was at the Political Studies Association annual conference hosted by Strathclyde University, in 2024. Towards the end of the conference, a panel didn’t sound too appealing and David and I just sat in the corridor chatting; chatting about this and that, past colleagues, academia, family (always family), and yet again I thought what an incredible man he was. A foremost scholar in parliamentary studies whilst incredibly caring and generous.

Whenever I needed advice, whenever things were difficult, I always knew I could count with David’s support. He’d understand, he’d know what to say. One of the last things he told me was to slow down and retire early. You never know what’s ahead and, as Lorraine always reminded him, there is so much more out there than work. And yet, it is thanks to work that David leaves such a huge scholarly legacy. I shall miss him deeply; his generosity, his openness to ideas, his wise perspective over things, his reminder that what really matters are people; wouldn’t academia be so much better if we were all a bit more liked David Judge? Except that he would have been horrified to know I’ve written this;).

About the author

Cristina is a Professor of Politics at the University of Leeds.